She’d just have to endure the heartache and get through it and never, ever have an affair with an unavailable man again. She wiped her eyes and got off her bed and went to the fridge. There was cold mac and cheese. That and a glass of red might help. She took the repast and sat in front of the TV and channel-hopped until she came across an old fifties weepie with Lana Turner. Perfect, Kaylee thought miserably, curling up on the sofa for a weep fest as the skies darkened out over the Harbor.
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-E
IGHT
‘So you’ve made up your mind, you’re definitely going back to London,’ Hilary said to Colette on their last night together before she flew to meet Niall in Toronto the following day.
‘Yup! There’s nothing for me here. I’m done.’ Colette knelt on Hilary’s case for her while she struggled to close the zip. Hilary had spent the day in Macy’s buying bargains in the pre-Christmas sales.
‘And will you stay there for Christmas or will you come to Dublin?’ Hilary sat back on her heels.
‘I thought I might invite the parents over for Christmas. They always hold a big New Year bash so they’ll want to be home for that.’ Colette stood up.
‘And will you come over for it?’ Hilary wiped her brow as the familiar and unwelcome prickles of heat made her scalp so hot she felt she could fry an egg on it.
‘God, I couldn’t think of anything worse. The soon-to-be-divorced daughter. On her own. I don’t think so.’ Colette grimaced.
‘Come over, and stay with us on New Year’s Eve then. We always have a trad night. It’s great fun,’ Hilary invited.
‘I haven’t been to a trad night in years!’ Colette declared with a hint of a smile.
‘That’s cos you got too posh and sophisticated,’ teased Hilary. ‘Come on, we’ll have a laugh!’
‘I suppose Queenie Harpur will be there.’ Colette sniffed.
‘Ah stop! Jonathan’s the best. I don’t know why you never took to him.’ Hilary stood up and rubbed her back.
‘He thinks he owns you. He’s always telling you what to do.’ Colette scowled.
‘He organizes me. Someone has to. He’s a great friend.’ Hilary had forgotten how childish Colette could be sometimes.
‘Well I’m your oldest friend,’ Colette declared. ‘Let’s open a bottle of Pétrus to celebrate friendship.’
‘Maybe not, Colette,’ demurred Hilary. ‘It might give Des another heart attack when he comes home to find his wine cellar has been raided and the most expensive ones are gone.’
‘That’s not all that will have been raided,’ Colette said with a gleam in her eye, going in search of the corkscrew.
Niall was waiting for her in arrivals when Hilary landed at Toronto Pearson International Airport the following morning and she abandoned her trolley and flew into his arms, kissing him soundly.
He laughed when he drew away. ‘Did you miss me then?’ he teased.
‘Oh I did,’ she said fervently. ‘We are so lucky, Niall. I know we have our ups and downs but nothing like what’s going on with the Williamses. I just feel sorry for every single one of that family.’
‘Even Des?’ he asked, surprised, as she linked his arm while he pushed the trolley through the terminal.
‘Even Des, the prat! I really think he panicked when he tried to get Colette to sign that document. That’s my reading of it, but Colette doesn’t want to know. She just wants out. She couldn’t bear to “slum it” around New York without her Town Cars and charity committees and the like. I hope you’ve booked a Town Car for us to bring us to the hotel,’ she joked.
‘Sorry, it’s your common or garden taxi,’ Niall grinned. ‘But we have got a lovely room in the Ritz-Carlton with stunning views over Lake Ontario, and a massive bed!’
‘Excellent!’ Hilary exclaimed happily. ‘What are we waiting for?’
‘What indeed?’ agreed her husband. ‘Little did we think we’d be having a second honeymoon in Toronto this December.’
‘Here’s us having a second honeymoon and Colette and Des are on the skids,’ Hilary said sombrely.
‘You were there for them. You did your best for Colette – no friend could ask for more,’ Niall approved.
‘They’re going to divorce. Colette’s adamant about that.’
‘That’s tough and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Poor Jazzy.’ Niall manoeuvred the trolley through the doors and they emerged into a crisp, cold, blue-skied morning to queue for a taxi.
‘Oh it’s freezing,’ Hilary gasped. ‘Much colder than New York.’
‘Never fear, I’ll warm you up soon enough,’ Niall promised as a cab drew to a halt and minutes later they were cuddled up together holding hands in the back seat, heading for downtown Toronto.
A week later, the day before Des was due home from hospital, Colette Sellotaped a bubble-wrapped parcel tightly, and laid it carefully into the inlaid drawer in the pedestal desk. She turned the key, locked it, and then put the key in her pocket. She walked into the formal dining room and studied the paintings and antiques she had stuck coloured labels on. She glanced at her watch. The shipping company was due at nine. To transport the items she was taking with her to London she was using a specialist company that the gallery employed to ship fine art and antiques around the world. Before they arrived she had ten minutes to herself to sip her green tea and walk around the apartment that had been her home for so long.
‘Do not get sad,’ she warned herself aloud as her
